Going up in smoke
by Marystormshade
Summary: Between a sociopath and a psychopath, there is no love. Only obsessive competition. And this particular psychopath can't help but be entertained by everyone's favorite villain. Tom Riddlex OC Irregular updates probably .
1. Chapter 1

_Holy water cannot help you now  
A thousand armies couldn't keep me out  
I don't want your money  
I don't want your crown  
See I've come to burn  
Your kingdom down_

Holy water cannot help you now  
See I've come to burn your kingdom down  
And no rivers and no lakes, can put the fire out  
I'm gonna raise the stakes; I'm gonna smoke you out

Seven devils all around you  
Seven devils in my house  
See they were there when I woke up this morning  
I'll be dead before the day is done

_-Seven Devils, Florence and the Machine_

She waited until the two men had left. One of them had been an older gentleman, in his nineties she suspected as she watched him leave the other man, or more precisely a boy, no older than seventeen. Once both had left she stepped forward, her feet made a clicking sound as the scenery about them changed to fit her imaginings.

The train station seemed to engorge itself for a moment before changing into a high arched church, the whiteness of the walls seeming to infect her very judgment. She crouched on the floor and looked at the thing.

It was white, pale to an extreme, with no nose and red veins decorating it randomly. It looked like a misshaped fetus that had never quite finished development.

"My...you've gotten into quite the predicament." The woman observed, as she pulled the thing out into the open, so she could get a better look at it. The things lips seemed to curl at the sight of her, teeth bared disgustingly. She ignored this as she fanned her finely manicured hands across the thing, enveloping it.

"How about this...as I recall I owe you a favor, yes?" She said musingly as she pulled her hands back, the thing now wrapped in some sort of cloth, so as to hide its hideousness. "How about we turn back the clocks, eh?" She questioned happily, clapping her hands childishly as her teeth shined. "Although there is one thing...I'll be there of course, keeping track of you. Couldn't have a repeat of this nonsense." She said gesturing toward the thing. "Oh and of course..." Here her eyes hardened as she looked at the thing. "This time, you don't get to lose."

Xxxxxxxxxx

Time has always passed strangely. Particularly for Theresa, part of the job description she supposed. Theresa of course, had done nothing when the thing on the white tiled floor began to tremble violently, all common modesty forgotten as it convulsed. A red fluid streaming from its mouth. As the thing stopped suddenly, growing far to still Theresa smiled.

"Time to go." She whispered as she raised her hand, snapping her fingers gently. And well...time did the exact opposite of what it is required by nature to do. It went back.

The church with its high arches was gone and was instead replaced with the white fluttering of snow. Theresa blinked and looked down at herself. Content that she was dressed appropriately enough for a light bout of snow, she moved to the left and snatched a newspaper from a nearby stoop.

"December 31st, 1926..." She read aloud. She looked up as she heard the sound of a woman's pained voice, singing gently. Theresa approached the sound with very little caution. Merope Gaunt had something that she wanted. More specifically, a someone.

Xxxxxxxxxx

She got there a moment too late.

The baby was the only one still breathing.

She took the child from the woman's cold arms as she admired the noble features that adorned the boy's face. His dark eyes studied her with little amusement as she carried the baby to the orphanage he was destined to hate.

With a little persuasion and a flicker of unseen fingers, the child had exchanged hands and the baby was placed into his makeshift home.  
"What's his name?" Asked Ms. Wool, as she shifted the baby in her arms as it seemed intent to keep its eyes trained on Theresa. Theresa scratched the side of her face in confusion before smiling slightly embarrassed.

"Ah yes, it's Tom...Tom Marvolo Riddle...Junior that is, after his father."  
"That's a lovely name."  
Theresa gave a nod of acknowledgement as she turned and made her way down the cold steps of the orphanage. Almost instantly a shrill wale came from the baby whose name was now Tom. His greedy hands reached for Theresa, demanding. She didn't look back until Tom had been taken back inside. She smirked as she leaned against a railing.

"No need to fret my lord. I am yours until the very end."


	2. Chapter 2

Normal Babies don't dream worth a second thought. Not that they would remember their dreams anyway.

But unless you've forgotten, Tom Riddle is anything but normal. And so he dreamt, oh how he dreamt.  
Dreaming of smirking lips, biting canines and large estates; their hallways, if mapped out looked like spider silk with how puzzling the outline was. And there was a girl. Her entrance into the dream was a rather dramatic one as she seemed to be thrown into his unconscious mind. She looked as if she had swum miles, her skin looking weather worn and sanded, hair soaking as it trailed across her back. Her fingers were dangerous looking due to the dry red material that coated them. Her eyes however, were laughing at him, as if he was the one who looked halfway to death and a quarter of the way starved.

She embraced him, humming a lulling tune that washed over the small infant Tom with a disturbing safety. As she hummed longer her appearance changed, as her lips went from chapped and dry to red and full. Her brown mess of hair pulled back behind her ears. The dangerous fingers were no longer coated in the redness, but were instead wrapped protectively about his small form.  
The eyes however, never lost their cruel amusement. A giggle was released from the girl as quite abruptly she pulled back, and the vision ended.

The newest addition to Wools Orphanage let loose a mighty cry. His body suddenly feeling cold. As employees of the orphanage went to attend to the boy, none of them noticed the woman who observed quietly from outside, her eyes watching.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tom grew. Like any human should. And eventually he toddled about on his two wobbly feet, proclaiming himself the new dominant force that ever existed. As most children did. He forgot the first dream he ever had within 24 hrs of his birth, in fact he forgot it the moment that Ms. Wool had come in with a warm bottle and some sort of blanket that she wrapped tightly about him. Ceasing his struggles.

However, Tom, like any boy, grew tired of being a child. And so, he grew once more.

Now at the age of seven, Tom Riddle Jr. could be considered a...handsome child. His face still held the childish quality of being round as his hair fell in a perfect part, keeping itself out of his dark eyes. The eyes that swept across rooms and seemed to hold the attention of everyone, leaving an almost certain weary feeling upon anyone who looked too long at him.

It was at this tender age that Tom Riddle committed his first true act of cruelty.

That is of course, what Theresa always thought.

Children are capable of many things. Particularly when they are told never to do the very things that they excel at. Such as...lighting things on fire. Tom, of course, knew that fire was a dangerous element not to be reckoned with, but, he also knew that it was an extremely useful tool.

And so, he lit the orphanage on fire.

While it was still occupied.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tom did nothing as the wood of the orphanage was soaked until it seemed to swell with the very moisture that had been thrust upon it. He was slightly disappointed to see that all the occupants of the orphanage had in fact made it out safely, and the blasted building had suffered not so great an injury that it could not be repaired.

In the end, it was assumed that the fire had been started by a stove left on by some negligent worker. Many glances of mixed emotions were sent towards Tom, some suspicious, some worried, others just angry. He ignored them all, they were of no consequence.

Tom of course heard the whispering while no one else did. It wasn't the whisper of a snake however as it usually had been, but it was instead the whisper of a soft voice, laced with sweetness. He looked around cautiously, as Ms. Wool marched the orphanage children to the park, where they would spend the rest of the afternoon, until she could sort out living arrangements for the next month or two, while the orphanage would no doubt be under construction.

The words whispered were in such a low tone that even Tom had difficulty making them out. But eventually he caught one word, spoken clearly as if the word itself wanted to be heard.

_Soon._

As Tom, slightly annoyed by not understanding the meaning behind the word, turned to join the migrating group, he could have sworn he saw laughing green eyes peering at him from the shadows.


	3. Chapter 3

_When the Devil is sick he a saint would be, when the Devil is well, Devil a saint was he. Often I wonder, but I should never agree, to any family ties between the Devil and me._

He had never been attacked by a dog before. People sure, the other children at the orphanage had always felt the need to occasionally kick him bloody. Of course, he accepted it, knowing deep within that one day, he would be the one kicking. And he wouldn't stop when they were just bloody.

However today was seemingly different.

The mutt had pounced on him as he had walked past an opening into an alley. It dug into his arm with its yellowing stinking teeth, its eyes furious. Tom pulled viciously, attempting to break the dogs hold on his arm. This only caused the dogs teeth to rip through his scraggily jacket as if it were paper. The dog lowered its ears against its head suddenly as Tom's eyes blazed.

"You will not." Tom hissed through tight lips as he took a step closer to the cowering animal. Tom stopped however as a low whistle was heard directly behind him. He turned and saw a girl, approximately his age, with hair that fringed just beneath her earlobes, a boyish cut. She moved her bangs out of her face, revealing sharp green eyes that studied Tom with a dethatched knowingness. Suddenly she smiled, her red lips pulling at the edges.

"How'd you do that?" She asked Tom stepping closer. In turn he stepped back.  
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. Now I really must be going-" He was cut off by the girls face suddenly being inches away from him. His first impression was that she was going to bite him, like some animal infected with rabies. But no, she merely watched him. And Tom came to the startling realization that she was studying him.

She stepped back and eyed him appraisingly.  
"Name's Theresa. I'm turning 11 in a week."

Tom looked at her coolly. Interestingly enough, the dog that had formally been a problem was nowhere to be seen. As if the mutt had been whisked out of existence as suddenly as it had been brought forth.

"My name is Tom." He answered finally, as he felt the growing need to leave. Particularly under the girl's harsh stare.

"How old are you?" She asked abruptly. Clearly wanting to know more than average curiosity would lead her to ask. Tom hesitated.  
"I turned 11 a few months ago." It was true, he had turned 11 one month ago, and on his birthday a middle aged man with a beard had come to visit him. Telling him things he could have figured out on his own. He also brought a letter.

Tom didn't expect the toothy grin that Theresa displayed as she seemed pleased.

"Did you get a letter too?"

Tom said nothing, but instead nodded hesitantly. The girl threw her arms up in happiness. "Oh good! I thought I'd never meet anyone. So what house do you think you'll get into?" She asked suddenly stepping closer to him, new found energy in her green eyes. "Have you gotten all your supplies?"

Tom breathed through his nose.

"I've no idea what house I'll be placed in, and quite frankly I don't care. And no, I've not gotten any supplies." Tom said slightly annoyed. The girl also looked annoyed.

"You haven't got a wand?"

"No."

The girl shut her eyes briefly as if praying. Then she brightened and flashed him a smile.

"If you'll be my friend I'll help you get your things."

Tom lost interest almost immediately. "Sorry, I don't have friends." He said sardonically as he pivoted and began walking back to the orphanage. Surprisingly the girl matched his pace as she walked beside him. She looked at him.

"Is it because of the rabbit?"

Tom stopped, causing Theresa to over compensate for the sudden change in pace. She steadied herself as Tom's eyes glared at her accusingly.

"How do you know about that?"

She grinned. "An orphans pet rabbit is found hanging by his tail in city hall, and you expect no one to find out? You really are naive."

Tom's cheeks puffed out as he evaluated the girl in front of him. If she knew about the letter of acceptance into Hogwarts, if she knew about the supplies he would need, if she knew about _him, _then maybe it wasn't a terrible idea to keep an eye on her.

Taking his silence as some form of consent Theresa ran ahead of him, leading the way.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's uncomfortable being a child. This was what Theresa had decided when she had finished degeneration.

It was a painful experience, becoming small, becoming younger, becoming different.

When she finished, she had stretched her body by touching her toes. She sighed and ruffled her hair. She stopped in surprise. Her hand rubbed through her hair and she nearly bit her tongue off.

Her hair was short. It had never been short before. She'd always kept it at a healthy length, going past her shoulders (the shortest) and going to her lower back (the longest).

She sighed and stuffed her hand into her coat pocket, her fingers rubbing against a ten inch cherry wood wand. The inner core was made of a long since forgotten substance: ghost breath. She smirked as she pulled her wand out and pointed it forward, the dark red of the wood contrasting to her skin. With a gentle twist of her wrist and a small incline of her head the shadows around her congealed.

They met and twisted, forming a solid shape. The shape evolved into a dog, the dog looking ready to bite off goliath's head.

With one final flick of her fingers, the dog was off, after its target.

Theresa clicked her tongue.

"And so, the show begins."


	4. Chapter 4

It is a well known fact that everyone hates liars. Particularly those doing the lying. Everyone feels a sort of discontentment when they are lying to some measure, or they feel a grim satisfaction when they hear someone else lying, although this is quickly wiped away and replaced with darker emotions.

However, Theresa was an exception. She had absolutely no qualms about lying, in fact it was a skill she called on all the time. Not a day had gone by in her exceedingly short existence that she hadn't lied. And today was no different.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They shuffled forward, separated by at least a foot of empty space. Tom never looked at Theresa while Theresa would just smile lopsidedly at the seeming absurdity of everything. Finally after what seemed hours but relatively was only a short 13 and a half minutes, Theresa stopped. Her smile never fell as she looked at Tom.

"I hope you can climb." Was all she said, before she sprinted forward on scrawny legs, toward a wooden crate that had been left unattended. With a step on the box she sprung upwards, latching small fingers onto a windowsill. With a grunt she hoisted herself up until her knees rested on the sill. Theresa breathed heavily before giggling slightly because of the dizzy feeling she got from climbing. She didn't look back at Tom as she pushed herself above the window, until the upper half of her body rested on the shingles of the building. She squirmed upward until she was sitting crossed legged on the roof, looking down at Tom.

Tom had watched her progress with mild surprise. Although merely sighed tiredly as he looked around to see if there were any other ways to get to the roof. There weren't. With a much more leisurely pace he followed suit as he climbed with a bit more skill than Theresa. Soon he also was atop the roof, although he chose to stand.

"Come on, we can get to Diagon Alley from up here." Theresa said, motioning for Tom to get on all fours, so that they could crawl across the rooftop. After an onslaught of scraped knees and battered fingers Tom finally voice his aggravation.

"Is this absolutely necessary?" He asked, voice sharp as his tongue flicked out to his bottom lip, if only for a moment. He missed Theresa's grin.

"No."

The pain of it! The stupidity!

Tom stood up angrily. The fabric at his knees coated in dust. Theresa joined in this as she stood as well. "Anyway, you can stop complaining. We're here."

Tom looked around still slightly aggravated. They were approximately 2 blocks away from the original building they had climbed on top of, and from what he could see, there was nothing particularly special about this building. "How can this be it?" Tom demanded, growing impatient. If someone were to look at him, they would never guess that he was as annoyed as he really was. But Theresa wasn't a simple someone. She noted the twitch of his eyelid and smiled.

Pulling out her wand from her pocket she tapped the spot just beneath her feet. Before he could protest Theresa grabbed Tom's arm, jerking him to her. As he was about to yell the portion of the roof they were standing on seemed to pull out of itself, making a large hole.

They tumbled in.


End file.
